


Misuse of UNIT Property

by KellerProcess



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Comedy, M/M, off-screen sex, poor affronted master, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellerProcess/pseuds/KellerProcess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's newest gadget may give him and the Master the privacy they're desperate for. Or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misuse of UNIT Property

“Hello, Doctor. Lovely afternoon, is it not?”

The Doctor sighed as the Master jammed the barrel of his pistol against his back. Of all the thousands of beings he had ever had the pleasure or the misfortune of meeting, the Master had the worst sense of timing of any of them. “Old chap, I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but I’m right in the middle of an experiment. Could you come back in, oh, an hour or so?

Frowning, the Master shook his head. This particular body’s hearing was not nearly as sharp as he would have preferred, but his ears had never before relayed complete nonsense. “What?”

“I’ve a very important experiment running, my dear. Some stealth thingamabob the Brigadier wanted me to cook up for UNIT.”

‘”What.”

The Doctor indicated the little brown box on the table with a wave of his hand. “Oh, it’s a funny little device. Keeps everything one says in the room in which one is speaking, no matter how thin the walls or how clever the eavesdropper. One need only to push the lever like so—” He demonstrated.

The Master just stared. “What?”

The Doctor reached behind him and gently patted the gloved hand that held the gun to his shoulder. “Only, it isn’t quite finished yet; even I can’t meet the Brigadier’s ridiculous timetables one hundred percent of the time. Now, I know you’ve sneaked in here and hypnotized or incapacitated more than a few guards to kill me—terribly rude of you, by the way; they’re no more involved in our quarrel than Miss Grant is—but you’ll simply have to be patient. The canteen is two floors down and just to your left after the staircase. I’m afraid their tea is only scarcely drinkable on a Wednesday, but Sue does make an excellent cherry pie. Your skill at disguises being unparalleled, you should have no trouble nipping down there for a little snack without causing anyone too much of a fuss. ”

“Cherry…pie…,” the Master intoned.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t it your favorite?”

The Master clicked his tongue in annoyance and removed the barrel from the Doctor’s back. “Really, my dear Doctor! I’m standing here with a weapon pointed at you after going to the trouble of sneaking onto this base on an inspection day—and it was a great deal of trouble, you know; some of these UNIT types are quite immune to the power of suggestion, and they’ve apparently got them stationed everywhere, thanks to the field marshal’s visit—and I’m told to simply toddle off to the canteen while you—muck about with something you could have made during our second year at school.”

The Doctor nodded and shrugged helplessly. “The Americans have a peculiar expression for just this sort of situation: ‘working for the Man.’ Anyway, my dear, I’m afraid our lunch date must become a promise for an early supper. “

The Master stomped his foot, then blushed with the realization that he had, in fact, just indulged in behavior that would be above most ten-year-old humans. “You’ve been putting me off for weeks to dance to the orders of these irritating little primates! Confound it, man, what are you, their lap dog?”

“Now, now. There’s hardly a need to be insulting.”

“I daresay you’ve insulted me quite deeply, Doctor. “

“Have I?” The Master’s reflexes were fast, but the Doctor’s were often faster. In one fluid movement, he spun up from his chair and slapped the gun from the Master’s hand. The Master snarled and dived for it as it skidded across the floor, but once again the Doctor proved faster; the other Time Lord let out a thoroughly undignified “Oof!” as his dearest enemy pinned him to the floor with the weight of his larger body.

The Doctor tsked, as if scolding a particularly clumsy child. “How many times must I tell you? Whenever you lower your guard—or your weapon—around me, this is liable to happen.”

The Master moaned as his lover pressed a knee between his thighs.

“Is there even a machine?” he panted.

The Doctor shrugged. “Yes, of course. Completed not half an hour after breakfast. But it is something I could have constructed as a second-year student. You should have listened to your instincts, old chap.”

“You _lied_ to me?”

“All in good fun. Or did we not agree that all rules were off during our…rendezvous?” He pushed his knee forward again. The Master moaned as it connected with his hardness. “Then again, you don’t seem to particularly mind.”

The Master snarled and attempted to twist away from the man pinning him. With another chuckle, the Doctor eased up just enough to slap him across his rear.

“Doctor!”

“Mh, now. Be a good man and get up on that table, won’t you? You’re quite right, my dear. I’ve owed you a romantic afternoon for ages, and it’s high time I made good on my word.”

“Yes, but…here?” The Master asked as the Doctor eased off his back.

“Why not? Most of the base is busy with the inspection, and this handy device I’ve been ‘mucking about on,’ as you put it will shield us from anyone who isn’t with him.” He offered the Master his hand. “You can scream as loudly as you like, Master; I assure you, no one will disturb us.”

The Master took it and let the Doctor help him to his feet. “No one will be able to hear us?” he asked, his tone submissive.

“My dear fellow, do you really think I’d expose you to prying ears of any Tom, Dick, Brigadier, or Jo who walked past?”

“Very good, Doctor.” The Master grinned and leaped for the discarded gun again. “But you should have taken your own advice: never lower your guard around me.”

The Doctor leaped out of the way and the Master’s bullet hit the wall, leaving a large but harmless hole in the plaster. “A .45 Magnum, old man?”

“Yes, have you something against that model and caliber?” The Master swung the butt of it at the Doctor’s jaw.

The other Time Lord pivoted and captured the Master’s wrist. “Oh, I suppose it gets the job done, but it really is rather common, don’t you think?”

“I admit it is somewhat pedestrian, but still, it is a perfectly effective device!” He threw a punch for the other Time Lord’s face. The Doctor took it on the jaw with a growl of pain, but his grip held.

“Then I hope you won’t have any trouble letting it get thrown about a bit more,” the Doctor said as he bent the Master’s wrist back and to the side. The Master gasped as his carpals popped.

“Though, I suppose you could fire with your left but, mh, let’s not find out, shall we? It would be such a pity to break your beautiful wrist instead of doing this.”

The Doctor pulled the Master’s arm behind him, wrapped his free arm around the other man’s waist, and pulled him close. The Master shuddered as the Doctor’s tongue trailed up his neck, and once again the gun clattered harmlessly to the floor.

“Confound you and confound aikido, judo, tai chi chuan, and the whole lot of human and Venusian martial arts! And their entire catalogs of seductive arts at that!” The Master moaned as the Doctor licked him again and closed his eyes. “All right, all right! You win. Today. What humiliating thing are you going to ask me to do, then?”

“Humiliating? My dear fellow, why do you think I’d want to do humiliate you?”

The Master just regarded at him with a raised eyebrow and a sour expression.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. This afternoon is all about some much-needed levity between us, not about dirty tricks and one-upmanship.”

The Master raised his eyebrow further. “If you’re trying to seduce me, my dear Doctor, you need to try a different line of reasoning. I recommend an actual promise rather than a vague assurance.”

“An assurance? Very well.” The Doctor slid both hands along the curvature of the Master’s ass and squeezed, drawing the shorter Time Lord up onto his tip-toes and eliciting a startled moan from him. “If you don’t climb up onto my worktable right now and let me make love to you, old chap, I’m going to march you right in to the Brigadier and demand that he lock you up and throw away the key.”

“All the better,” the Master said as he backed slowly towards the table. “Then you’ll have no choice but to pay me the conjugal visits I’m owed—and your back payments are in arrears, Doctor.”

“Careful, careful. You know what double entendres do to me when they fall from those proper lips of yours.”

“Oh, do stop talking and remind me.” The Master grabbed the Doctor by his vest and pulled him down into a kiss. As the Doctor moaned and scrabbled to lift his lover onto the desk, his flailing hand knocked against the machine. It slid backward into the wall, and the lever, which had never been screwed in too tightly, sprung into the opposite position.

***

“You run a damned fine operation, Lethbridge-Stewart, if I do say so,” the field marshal said as he and the brigadier’s staff reentered the brigadier’s office. “Every man about his job, no hemming and hawing over red tape or busy work, yet everything meticulously filed and in its proper place. Your facilities are better maintained than many of our newer ones, despite the unfortunate budget cuts. Good Lord, you’ve even dealt with this Master business with grace and pluck. Good show!”

“Thank you, sir.” Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart gave his superior office a polite bow. Behind him, Benton, Yates, and Jo smiled.

“I only wish I could have met this Doctor fellow of yours,” the field marshal said. “My sister met his last regeneration and always had the nicest things to say about him—though she couldn’t quite understand his interest in flutes. Are you certain he’s quite unavailable?”

“I’m afraid so,” the Brigadier said apologetically. “He’s currently conducting some very important experiments into sonar technology.”

“Really? How fascinating! Might I ask for specifics?”

The Brigadier could not resist a small smile at how well everything was working out today. “I’m afraid he gets rather cranky when we give away his secrets,” he said apologetically. “But it does have something to do with soundproofing a room from the inside out. Keeping the waves from carrying where they shouldn’t.” Of course, he would certainly not tell the field marshal exactly why he had asked the Doctor to construct such a device; doing so would not only be sheer folly, but potentially embarrassing for everyone in the room.

“Oh?” The field marshal asked. “Well, what a splendid idea! Why—”

But his question would never receive an answer, or even a hearing. A mechanical, staticky shriek pierced the room like a hot needle, forcing everyone to grab his or her ears. Before anyone could react to it further, the cacophony resolved into what sounded like the breath of a man who had been running for a good half hour.

“Mhhh, oh Doctor!”

The brigadier felt his entire body wilt as if he had suddenly been thrown into a vicious winter wind.

 _Oh no_ , he thought. Please. Not now. Not now. Not today.

But the panting continued. And then, another horror:

“Oh come now, old man. You like it rather rough, don’t you?”

“D-doctor, I assure you I-that I do not at all.”

“Oh no? Well, then, you certainly won’t enjoy this, will you?”

There came the sound of heavy objects bumping across a hard surface, and what appeared to be glass shattering.

“Stop that! Stop that at once! I’m terribly sensitive there!”

“Tickle tickle tickle!”

The field marshal frowned and turned his head curiously, as if had misheard something. “What the devil is that, Lethbridge?”

“Ahh,” the brigadier cleared his throat nervously. “Must be a—a fault in the wires, yes.”

“Who’s a dirty old chap, then?”

Moaning.

“Is that the Doctor?” The field marshal’s frown deepened. “What on earth is the man doing in there?”

More moaning. Followed by the sound of something hard connecting to soft, malleable flesh.

“Doctor!”

The field marshal turned several shades of pale in rapid succession. “Is he—”

“No, no!” the brigadier insisted. “Just a fault in the wires, I assure you!”

“Who’s a filthy fellow?”

Jo was the first and only one in the room to shake off their stupor. “Field marshal, would you care to tour our canteen?” Her voice was chipper as she took the officer’s hand, as though the Doctor’s afternoon sex show was not currently being played at full volume around them. “Sue makes a terribly good cherry pie!”

“Who’s a wicked old thing?”

“D-doctor, please!”

“Come now. Who’s a wicked, naughty, silly old sod?”

“Yes, yes.” The field marshal coughed as he took Jo’s arm. “I think I’m feeling rather faint. We’ll talk about this later, Lethbridge-Stewart,” he said as he reached the door. “Damned funny operation you’re running here, if I do say so! All of these—Time Lords and what not fornicating on base radio frequencies.”

“Doctor! Mmmmmm!”

“Now, now, Master. Mustn’t talk with our mouths full!”

“Well, I never!” The field marshal exited, shaking his head. “The prime minister shall hear of this, mark my words!”

“What do we do to naughty Masters?”

“Mhhhhnnn!”

“Mh, that’s right. We turn them over our knees and give them a nice, thorough caning!”

“Oh, Doctor!”

The brigadier sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

The moaning continued, accompanied by what sounded distinctly like table legs scooting across Formica.

“Sir?” Yates asked, blushing from the tips of his ears to his collar. “What should we, erm…”

“Slide the telephone over, won’t you, Sergeant?”

Yates did as requested. “Permission to follow Benton out the door post-haste, sir?”

“If you must.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yates hurried after his friend as the Brigadier picked up the receiver and punched two keys with enough force to shake his desk.

***

The Doctor ignored the telephone as he brought the handle of his ruler down against the swell of the Master’s rear.

“We. Mustn’t. Deploy. Nuclear. Weapons,” he said, punctuating each word with a slap.

“Y-yes, Doctor.” The Master whimpered as he writhed across his lap. “I’ve been a very, very bad Master.”

“Oh very bad,” the Doctor agreed.

The telephone kept ringing.

“Erm…I don’t wish to spoil this, Doctor, but…shouldn’t you answer?”

“Oh, they’ll ring off eventually,” the Doctor reassured him. “And I don’t recall telling you to speak out of turn,” he added with another crack of the ruler.

“Yes, Doctor.”

The telephone continued to ring.

The Master growled. “Dash it all, man! I can’t concentrate with all this racket! Can’t you unplug it?”

“No. Whoever is calling might try to come over. And we wouldn’t want them to see you like this, now would we?” He patted the Master’s rear. “Won’t be a moment, my dear,” he said as he picked up the receiver. “This is the Doctor speaking.”

“Doctor, what in the hell are you doing in your laboratory?”

“Ah, brigadier. My homework, if you’ll recall. Any particular reason?”

The brigadier did his best to simultaneously check the tone of his voice and refrain from swearing profusely. “Funny. I told you to make a device that kept the noise inside a room. Not one that broadcasts your dillydallying into my office when the field marshal is present.”

The Doctor froze. “I don’t understand,” he said carefully. “In fact, I daresay I’ve no idea what you’re talking about at all.”

“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense! We all heard you, Doctor! Canoodling with-with the Master of all people!”

The Master looked over his shoulder, his expression anxious.

“I can explain,” the Doctor tried.

“No, Doctor. Let me explain!” Lethbridge-Stewart snapped. “Our inspection was going flawlessly until you two bloody fools decided you couldn’t keep your trousers buttoned up. And if the base is shut down tomorrow and the lot of us are court martialed for—quite literally!—fraternizing with the enemy, oh, we’ll all know who to thank, won’t we?”

“Brigadier—” the Doctor tried again.

In his office, Lethbridge-Stewart swiped a hand over his sweaty face. “I’ve been as tolerant as I can be, Doctor. God knows I’ve looked the other way so much I’m in danger of going nearsighted. But from now on, see that you keep your hanky-panky off UNIT property. Or, if you can’t, at least mask the sound. That was the purpose of today’s assignment, you know.”

The dial tone sounded before the Doctor could reply.

“It seems we’ve hit a bit of a snag,” he said as he returned the receiver to its cradle and reached for the device.

“Snag?” The Master looked decidedly uncomfortable as he climbed off the Doctor’s lap. “Doctor…please tell me you aren’t about to confirm my worst suspicions.”

“I’m afraid so, old fellow,” the Doctor said as he turned the box around and pulled the lever back into place. “Somehow—most likely in the heat of passion—we seem to have bumped this into the wrong position.”

The Master merely stared at him for several seconds. “And when that happens,” he said carefully. “The sound waves aren’t contained in this room, are they?”

“No, old chap.”

“Your human friends heard everything, didn’t they?”

“Yes, old chap.”

“Ah.” The Master said meekly. And then, “You’ve never constructed one of these before, have you?”

“No, old chap.”

“And so,” the Master said, “there really was no need for including this—useless and entirely superfluous reverse setting. Was there?”

The Doctor swallowed. “I, er, well, you see—”

Ten seconds later, the brigadier’s early afternoon tea was interrupted by shouting that was as entirely unerotic as it was unaided by any mechanical device.

“Of all the blithering—ridiculous—half-baked _BOTCH-UPS_ you’ve ever attempted, Doctor!”

Lethbridge-Stewart sighed and massaged his temples. It was going to be a very, very painful migraine, indeed.


End file.
